Drunk
by Eve Davidson
Summary: My drunk Paige and Craig story... I almost deleted this sucker...no reviews, man. Do you guys hate this story or what? Please leave a review so I know what at least one person is thinking. Please? Sugar and all of that on top?
1. Chapter 1

He was expecting Ashley. Strumming on the guitar, the notes not quite coming out right but hey, it couldn't be turned on all the time. He heard someone coming up the steps that lead to his garage and then the knock on the door.

It wasn't Ashley.

"Paige?" Craig said, not moving to let her in, not sure what she was doing here.

"Hi, Craig. Gonna let me in or what?"

He moved aside and let her in, watching her as she moved around and picked up things here and there, looked at them and put them back. It was chilly in the garage even with his sweater and the snow was hard and glittered outside under the orange glow of the street lights. Craig shivered. Paige went to the door and locked it, turned around and looked at him with a devil's look.

"Hey, uh, Ashley's gonna be here soon…" he said, watching her pull the curtain closed, watching her set down her duffel bag by the door, blocking some of the frigid air that found its way through the cracks.

"No, she isn't. I called her and told her not to come," Paige smiled at him, her bluish eyes shiny and blank.

"What? Why?" Craig felt himself getting angry and tried to control it. The anger was like a wild animal on a frayed leash.

"So we could be alone," she started to come towards him and he backed up. He hardly spoke to this girl, hardly knew her, and as she came toward him he noticed the strong smell of whiskey coming from her pores.

"Why?" He was backed up against the wall now and she stepped up to him, grabbed his shirt in both hands and spun him around, pushed him down on the couch.

"Because I felt like it. I'm sick of Spinner, I want, I want something, someone, different,"

She was pressed up against him and he wanted to push her off of him but he didn't. She put one knee in between his legs and the other one on his thigh and pressed him into the couch and he could push her off him if he wanted to. He was bigger than she was and she was drunk. He pushed on her a little, his hands on her shoulders but she resisted the pressure and put her knee that was between his legs right up against his crotch.

"Don't push me off," she said, the whiskey smell strong and sickening on her out coming breath, and the knee against his crotch pressed in until it almost hurt.

"Paige, look…" Her knee crushing against him now and she leaned in toward him, kissed him on the lips and he didn't kiss back.

"C'mon, Craig, don't be such a prude," she said, her words almost slurred, her voice thick. She put her hand on the back of his neck and kissed him again and this time he kissed her back, tasting the whiskey, Jack Daniels wine coolers and vodka, peach tree shnapps thick and syrupy sweet.

"Paige, hey…" Her knee still pressed against him but not as hard, and the almost pain could slide into pleasure, and her hand on the back of his neck was strong, and her other hand trailed down his shirt and reached for the button on his jeans.

He knew he should get up, get her off him, not cheat on Ashley and not take advantage of a drunk girl, although she was the one who had come here out of the blue.

"Paige, stop, c'mon," He said, turning his head from her kiss as she undid his jeans with one flick of her wrist, and she reached for the zipper. He grabbed for her hand and her knee pressed in hard and he groaned, the full out paralyzing pain of being kneed in the balls crawling up to his stomach and he wanted to double over but she wouldn't let him.

"I told you," she said with drunken craftiness and he curled his hands into fists at his side to prevent himself from hurting her. She kissed him again and he kissed her back, thinking she might knee him again or do something else to hurt him, and her hand on the back of his neck went up to his hair and she grabbed a handful, ready to yank it if he disobeyed again.


	2. Chapter 2

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A/N: Thanks for the review, Palexiot. I hate when I send a story out and no one reviews it, it feels like it's just spinning in space somewhere. Anyway, I am struggling with this story and as I said I was ready to chuck it. But I've decided to keep it, to work with it, and hopefully I'll get enough feedback to figure out what's wrong with it, or right with it. And I'm sorry about the rambling author's note.

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Craig's point of view

I closed my eyes, felt Paige's weight against me. It wasn't that I didn't think she was sexy or cool or anything. I just, I couldn't cheat on Ashley. I shouldn't cheat on Ashley.

"Paige, c'mon," I said, pulling away, pushing her off me, but gently.

"You don't want me?" she said that in this pouty little girl's voice, her eyes kind of shining with tears, and she was drunk.

"It's not that. It's Ashley-"

"Oh so what? It didn't matter when it was Manny, did it?" She leaned in toward me again, closed her eyes and kissed me. I was pinned under her weight.

"Paige, stop," I said, and she stopped, and she was crying.

"Oh all you guys are all the same," she said through her tears, her eyes all squinted up, "everything is fine when it's your idea,"

"What? What's fine? You're not making any sense," I just stared at her. She was pacing in the center of the room.

"It's fine, it's all fine, whatever a guy wants to do! You wanted to cheat on Ashley and no one, no one fucking told you you couldn't, and Dean, he-"

"Who's Dean?"

"Dean. Dean from Bardell," she said this like I should know who he was, but the name meant nothing to me.

"And Dean just did what he wanted to do, and no one stopped him, and I'm just getting sick of the double standard, you know?"

"Paige, who's Dean?" I said it softly because I was starting to get an idea of what he might have done.

"Forget Dean. Forget it. It doesn't matter anyway,"

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Paige's point of view

I was really drunk. Head spinning, ready to puke drunk. Everything was happening in this fog, like it was far away and had little to do with me. I looked around, Craig's garage, how the hell did I get here? I saw the string of lights, the posters for all the rock groups he liked, the drum set tucked in the corner just waiting for somebody to come and bang on it.

He was sober. He was sitting in that old easy chair with the arms but it wasn't a recliner chair. Just some old chair Joey didn't want. I could tell he was sober, I could feel it. We weren't on the same wave length. But then again, I haven't been on the same wave length as anybody since Dean tore his way through my life.

But why did I come here? I hardly even knew Craig, I hardly knew him so why was I drunk at his house?

I shook my head, feeling the alcohol receding and the sharp metal shards of my hangover beginning. It pulsed and beat at my temples.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here," I started to go.

"Wait, Paige," Craig stood up, came over to me, and the room was still spinning and I was still drunk.

"You don't have to go," he said. He said it softly and nice and for some reason it made me really sad. Maybe I was just sad anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

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A/N: Thank you for the reviews and feedback. I don't know what it is with this story but it is still a bit of a struggle. It's like I'm wrestling with it. Alley Cat Shepard, I see your point involving the POV, it might have been a cop out to go from 3rd person to 1st, and switching them at that, but the damage is done. I guess I'll go back to 3rd person, just because it's the right thing to do. And please everyone keep reviewing and letting me know what you think-suggestions are very welcome.

Craig just looked at her, eyes red and puffy from crying, her hair in blond strings around her face.

"Paige, hey," he said, stepping toward her. But she backed away, wiped at the tears with the back of her hand.

"No, you don't have to be nice to me," she said, a slur at the edges of her words, "I shouldn't have come here-"

"It's okay," he said, going toward her slowly. She leaned against the door she had locked, looked at him with a half scared, half defiant expression.

"It's not okay, nothing's okay," she said so softly that he had to lean in closer to hear her.

"What? What's wrong?" Craig said.

"This alcohol. Damn it. I'll drink some one time and I get all happy, forget all the shit. But then sometimes I'll drink it and feel all…shitty…like this…" She was crying again and Craig just stared at her, wide-eyed.

"Yeah, but what's wrong?" he said again, wanting to move closer to her but sort of afraid to.

"Nothing! Nothing's wrong, nothing at all! I kissed my friend's boyfriend, practically molested him, I cheated on my boyfriend…and there will be consequences. There always are, for girls. After all, we're the ones who get pregnant, who get…pushed around or, or taken advantage of," She was getting a second wind, glaring at him, ready to push off the door and attack him again.

"Who's Dean?" he said.

"Oh fuck Dean, that Bardell bastard," and she came at him, punched his chest with weak little punches. He held her wrists easily, felt a little like he was in some silly soap opera.

"What did Dean do, huh?" he said.

"Nothing. What did your father do?" she spat back at him, and he winced.

"Fine, Paige. But you brought him up, I'd never even heard of the guy, and you're obviously upset. Maybe you should deal with your issues,"

"Oh we all have issues. Who the hell deals with them? No one, that's who. Instead of telling Ashley you loved her, you sent her a dozen roses. So how come you couldn't just tell her you loved her? Huh?"

Craig backed up from her, sat in the chair, legs stretched out in front of him. His whole Ashley/Manny thing flashed in his mind, his inability to tell Ashley how he felt, and it was all tied up with his dead parents and abandonment issues, trust issues. He licked his lips, hung his head. This wasn't the night he'd envisioned. He'd planned on hanging out with Ashley, maybe playing music, maybe fooling around a little. Nice. Instead he was getting yelled at and lectured to by Paige Micalchuk.

"And I don't care if you tell Spinner I was here, either. He doesn't own me. No one owns me-"

"I won't tell him," Craig said, his words slow and tired.

"Good," she said, pushing her hair out of her face, and Craig saw just how red and drunk her eyes looked.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Craig wondered what Ashley was thinking, wondered if she was mad at him even though none of this was his fault. But he'd become used to her blame, and deserved a lot of it. He'd always taken the blame.**_

_**Paige was sniffling, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, pushing her blond hair out of her eyes. She'd left the locked door and came back over to him, and he looked at her warily, not sure what she would do.**_

"_**With your dad," she said, and he could still hear the drunken slur to her words, "did you feel like it was your fault?"**_

"_**Uh, yeah. Kind of," He wondered how she knew about his dad. What did she know? Who told her? Ashley, maybe? Maybe it was just common knowledge. That was weird, how one person's misery and broken down life could just be common knowledge. Maybe it was the end of grade nine when he'd come into school with that cut and bruised eye, and everyone knew his father had done it. Of course everyone knew.**_

"_**I feel like it's my fault with Dean. I mean, hey, I asked for it. I got what I asked for," He heard the brokenness in her voice.**_

"_**No. It wasn't your fault. When people hurt you it's not your fault, they just want you to think that. It's them. It was my dad, you know? I didn't make him hit me, he just did it. And whatever this Dean guy did, he did it. You didn't make him do it," He took her hand in his, patted the top of it. When he looked at her her eyes were this emerald green through the tears.**_

"_**Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right. But no one gets it, no one understands that I feel it's my fault. It's all twisted,"**_

_**She sat on the arm of the chair he was sitting in , and he could feel the heat from her. She was still worked up, still wiping tears away. He knew what Dean had done.**_

"_**I know, Paige. It feels lousy. There's all these boundaries, and people cross them all the time. My dad hurt me all the time, and he had me thinking it was all my fault. That hurt, too. It wasn't. I know it wasn't, now. But it's taken, like, years to realize it. Don't let Dean take away all these years from you,"**_

_**She slid from the arm of the chair into his lap, and he slowly put his arms around her. She leaned her head against his shoulder. Sniffled.**_

"_**I guess you're right. I know you're right. But it's only like, my head knows it, you know? The rest of me still blames myself,"**_

"_**Yeah, I know," She leaned toward him and he slowly closed his eyes, felt her lips against his. He could feel the tears on her cheeks. She pulled away, and her face was too close to his for him to see her clear.**_

"_**Sorry, Craig. I shouldn't be here doing this, kissing you, hurting Ashley. It's just, it seems like you're the only person who could understand,"**_


End file.
